


Never Relenting

by xHonestSecretsx



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Empress - Freeform, F/M, Woc!reader, Women of colour, poc!reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHonestSecretsx/pseuds/xHonestSecretsx
Summary: The reigning queen defeated Hvitserk’s army. However instead of sacrificing or burning Hvitserk on a pyre, she decides to marry Hvitserk. Eventually his brothers hear word of this and come to reclaim him.





	1. Chapter 1

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The manner in which you obtained your husband was… not picture perfect. Hvitserk had been captured in war, requesting to be burnt at the stake. Oh but you couldn’t have that, he was far too handsome to burn. For a Queen that could have anything she wanted, it was too enticing.

You kept him against the wishes of your advisors.

“Empress please!” Your footsteps bounced off the pristine white floors onto the columns of your palace as you head towards your rooms. Several advisors fell in stride a few steps behind you.

“See reason, Empress, let your consort go.” A young woman with hair like silver spoke. The older man beside her agreed with her reasoning, stroking an obnoxiously long braided beard.

“The Norsemen are coming to reclaim him.” He rasped while others chattered sharply. Their voices were chirping like the birds of the skies.

“We’ll be slaughtered! He makes you weak! Let him go! He’ll bring death upon us!” All of their words formed a great headache that punched you square in your frontal lobe. You whirled around to face them in a flash of white silks and glimmering gold jewelry.

“Ivar the Boneless and Bjorn Ironside will come with or without the release of their brother. Be sensible.” You say, in between the four guards that stood outside of your room upright with spears.

“Tell General Ineni to expect the Northmen in our harbor. Take precaution, Ivar is quite devious.” Your head lolled back, rounding about on one shoulder until you eventually spoke. “If… they should land, I want General Akhen to look after Bjorn Ironside. Leave Ivar to me.”

The young woman spoke again, “But the Prince is a cripple. Will he sacrifice himself?” She looks between the scribe and yourself. You give a snide laugh.

“You have no idea.”

Just like that, you disappeared into your rooms to your vanity. It was late into the night. The roof of your chambers allowed the stars to glitter above, the moon gleaming fondly at you. You replaced one earring in its place, squeezing tightly onto the hooks when you felt calloused fingers across your naked shoulders.

“Could have gone better?” Your husband trills. Your muscles stiffen, unable to shake away the fear of the two. The wit of Ivar and Bjorn’s undeniable strength. They would lead the ultimate conquest of your people. You couldn’t let it happen… somehow, you had to outsmart a man that was kissed by the gods.

You had a feeling you wouldn’t.

“King Amul sent me word of Northmen sailing past his lands. Your brothers.” You say, beginning to strip your neck of several golden rings that delighted your neck. Your headache only seemed to swell when he spoke.

“They came for me?” Hvitserk exclaims. You wish he wouldn’t sound so happy.

“Did you think they wouldn’t?” You ask. “I took a prince.”

Despite the fact that normally he would be killed, keeping a Ragnarsson was risky. There was a wordless moment between the two of you when Hvitserk’s tongue slapped against his hard palate, decidedly taking his stance.

“I won’t let them kill you.” Hvitserk says. You’ve resigned yourself to such a fate and hope that they would be quick about it.

“I am sure Ivar will do whatever it is he wants to do to me.” You say. A fleet of goosebumps spread across your shoulders at the thought of being bound to him… to Ivar the Boneless. If you even made it that far. As if sending your fear, Hvitserk swivels in front of you. He bends in between the space of your vanity.

“(Y/N), have faith in me.” Hvitserk pauses, meticulously smoothing over the white cotton and silk of your dress. “I hope you know how hard I am trying to love you.”

His words fizzed out in your brain. You didn’t understand. He should have hated you.

“But I forced you to marry me.” You lean forward, brushing your hands over his jaw. His short strands of facial hair prickeled your fingers. “You deserve better than me. Did you not have a lover?”

Hvitserk shrugs in response. “Maybe.” He pauses, “But I can’t get your taste off my tongue. You’ll always be mine… and I’ll always be yours. There’s no room for anyone else.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Hvitserk swept you back to the massive bed in the middle of the room, swooping his arm under your back. The touch you craved from him was your sole reason for taking Hvitserk. You craved him… lusted after him, needed him.

“Rest. I’ll handle my brothers.”

Somehow, Hvitserk fell asleep before you. The rhythm of his chest inhaling and exhaling took stilling your ever wandering mind. Your fingers drew circles on Hvitserk’s soft stomach, knowing what had to be done. If you had to fight Ivar for your husband, you would. You only wish there was another way.


	2. Chapter II: The First Gate

When Hvitserk woke the next morning, the sheets had grown cold. He woke to this scene every morning, but this time, it was different. You stood over a vast window overlooking the busy harbor, winding about a skirt of silk around your hips. After you secured the skirt with pins, you turned to clasp the several heavy golden rings along your slight neck. They lead into a slight crop top jeweled with religious symbols.

“Bjorn Ironside has landed, Empress. He and the young Prince Ubbe seek an audience with you.” A foreign voice says beside you. The stranger is clad head to toe in white linen, encrusted in the slightest of jewels.

“And Ivar?” You ask. The advisor stutters excuses.

“But of course… Hold a portion of the army within our walls.” You sigh, lifting heavy braids of hair and beads up into a tight ponytail atop of your head. “He is either maneuvering through rivers or has landed elsewhere on our lands. Send word to chieftains. Do not engage him unless necessary… but bring him to me.”

Your hand lifts to shake her off. She scurries like a rat out of the door.

“Will Ivar be alongside him?”

You step away from the window, brandishing a weapon with a curved blade. You would hook it onto your belt moving from the streaming light to the dark shadows. In a way, you hated placing Hvitserk in a situation against his brothers but the wild one inside you said there was no choice.

Apart from Ragnar Lothbrok, Ivar the Boneless and Bjorn Ironside were two men you did not want to deal lightly with. Your nation would not be intimidated.

“Let me go to him.” Hvitserk maneuvers himself around, draping his legs off of the edge of the bed. Your hands rest at your hips, standing like a wall in front of his body. It becomes abundantly clear that you won’t release him. That you don’t– or perhaps would never believe him.

“You want me to release you.” You say.

“I wasn’t aware I was still being held like a kept horse.” Hvitserk rubs across his creamy shoulders. You realize that biting your lip enough to draw blood out of cracked flakes of skin is probably not the best way to go.

“My family has dominated this area for years Hvitserk.” You begin. “If… if you betray me, I will–”

“I won’t.” Hvitserk quickly cuts you off. He hops up onto the pads of his feet, meeting your intense gaze with his own. You can’t help but to think that he might for his family. Had you any siblings that survived infancy, perhaps you would have to. Your nose pulls up with soft wrinkles, unsure what to think.

“Very well.” You step aside. It still felt like a mistake. “Come.”

If Bjorn and Ubbe were together and meeting with you, you did not want to drop your guard on the off chance that Ivar was scheming in his place. Your sandals clapped along marble floors as you entered through a widely arched entrance. The Princes were happily scarfing down food though Ubbe’s face read as if he were a lot more stressed than Bjorn. Unsettled slaves shook holding bowls and fans but some of the slave girls told each other stories as the princes ate.

“Leave us.” You shunned away the giggling girls.

“Empress (Y/N).” Bjorn addressed you. Ubbe did the same.

“Princes.” Your lips spread into a small smile while you sat. A prowling black kitten hopped onto the table and you promptly brought him into your lap, stroking past the rings that pierced his ears down to his tiny pink nose. Hvitserk stood behind your chair, boring holes into Ubbe’s sharp features.

“I don’t need to ask why you came.” You lift a hand up to motion at Hvitserk. He enveloped your fingers in his, brushing his lips across your knuckles. Don’t fluster, don’t fluster. You cleared your throat, bringing your ringed hand atop of the cat on your lap. You wring his fingers underneath the kittens thick, glimmering gold collar to scratch his neck.

“We came to take our brother home.” Ubbe’s voice deepens, ricocheting off of the tall pillars in the room.

The hair on your neck erected like that of an angry cat under a cold splash of water. A bitterness set deep within your throat, worsening under the look of derision rising in Ubbe’s eyes. Your eyes set upon Ubbe spread wide apart.

“My husband isn’t going anywhere. If you wanted to keep him, you should have been here to take care of him.” You motion back to Hvitserk. His jaw grit together, grinding tooth against tooth when Bjorn spoke.

“We don’t want war.” Bjorn says. As if you did either, but you were sure they did not come this far over nothing.

“I can believe Prince Ubbe came for his brother. But Ivar, who is not here, and you…” You say lowly, dropping the kitten onto the floor. “Came for other reasons.”

All Norsemen raid. It was why Hvitserk came with his brothers and as such, you expected that after their last defeat, they planned to attempt to retake what was lost. The only fear you had was of Ivar’s lack of presence. Where was he?

Bjorn hunches over in his chair, placing his elbows onto his muscular thighs. “Ivar and I do not want senseless fighting. I came to discuss my brother, yes. But what of this marriage can pose trade opportunities? An alliance.” He says.

Rather unlike a Norseman. However you shared his sentiment. For a moment, you allow yourself to be fooled by his quicksilver tongue. Despite Ubbe’s sharp eyes, Bjorn’s welcoming ones fool you.

“It is well with me.” You raise up. “My husband and I will finally have a public ceremony. You and your brothers will come.”

You round the table to offer your hand to him, slight in comparison to Bjorn’s own. Just as your fingers graze together, a clumsy boy crashes through the room. He trips over the laces of his own sandals and drags himself along.

“Empress! Empress! Ivar the Boneless!” He coughs and heaves. His chest is rising and falling violently, likely due to the axe welted in the junction of his shoulder and arm. Blood seeps like a waterfall down the papyrus like linen he wears.

You turn away from Bjorn, “But it is not well with him, now is it!?” You sneer, rushing to the aid of the young boy. You howl for a healer as the boy careens with the vast golden table.

“What is it?” You say eagerly. “What of him?”

Forcing out strangled breath, the boy speaks through choked bloody words. “He’s breached the first gate.”


End file.
